Pep Talk
by suckersoprano
Summary: Wheatley has a habit of talking to himself in the mirror every morning.


Wheatley stared into his bathroom mirror, spectacled blue eyes squinting at his face as though he were getting in a staring contest with his reflection. He suddenly bared his teeth and turned his chin this way and that way to get a good look at his unfortunate, but not _too_ bad overbite. Then he stuck out his tongue and said a loud _aaaahhh…_ The tall man shut his mouth with a snap and stood back, inspecting his reflection with a critical expression before trying out a sort of lopsided grin.

"No no no, that doesn't look nearly charming enough," he muttered to himself, putting a bit more drama into the upward turn of his mouth and the raise of his eyebrow.

He scoffed and dropped it, "Trying really _too_ hard there, mate, try it again," he mumbled, though no one else was there.

Wheatley was standing in his bathroom with a towel wrapped around his bare hips while he tried out several different kinds of expressions in the mirror. This was a daily ritual; by now he knew his face better than anyone, not that anyone was really paying all too much attention. There wasn't really anything spectacular about him, other than perhaps being slightly taller than average. He was pretty much painfully average and that came out in his looks. Too skinny in some places, paunchy in the belly, plain-as-paper face; really these were things he was already aware of, though he tried his best to stand out at least a little.

Too bad it was usually in a very negative way, though purely by accident. About the only thing that was completely unaverage about him was this streak of bad luck and poor decisions that had plagued him since birth. That really translated to 'generally unappealing due to consistently screwing something up.'

"Not today, no sir," he said to his reflection, "Today, _you_—Yes, you, Wheatley—are going to manage to get through the day without spilling coffee on Miss Caroline, or fudging up the ink and jamming the paper in the copy machine, or saying something very unpleasant to any of the coworkers you fancy, got that? _Especially not Craig, for the love of science._"

He was pointing at the other Wheatley in the mirror in a hopefully stern, but fair manner. He crossed his arms over his skinny chest and nodded sagely. Yes, this was going to be a good day. He had plans to ask Craig out today, after what felt like months of flirting with him. Or whatever flirting could be defined as by Wheatley; which usually meant doing his damndest not to trip over himself around him and chat him up at incredibly inconvenient times.

A similar pep talk was given to his bathroom mirror when he tried asking Chell and that had… been a fiasco, to say the least. If he'd just kept a lid on his sharp, jealous, mostly uninformed tongue, he would maybe have had a better chance with her. The _one_ time he had to be given some form of leadership, he blew _that_ and his chances with the pretty, serious-faced woman. At that point, he left the pep talks until his heart mended a little. He just couldn't work up the enthusiasm to talk to himself; that had to be a pretty sad sign. Even he didn't want to chat himself up.

Actually, it was about the time he noticed that Craig was attractive that he began to start these little pre-work morning soliloquies. It took him a little longer to realize that attraction was what he was feeling, but nonetheless, the psych-ups continued while he shaved, after he bathed, while brushing his teeth—really whenever he could find the time in the morning.

"Okay, remember that we have to seem smarter around him, got that?" Wheatley reminded his reflection, "Don't come on all too strong and just… try not to screw up! We'll be golden, mate, you'll see."

The tap was turned on and Wheatley picked up his toothbrush, still talking while he applied toothpaste and began to clean his teeth, "Maybe go'n try shomething shpechul on'im t'day," he slurred while scrubbed his molars.

There was a pause to spit and he continued, "Try saying something like… Oh, hullo Craig, you're looking absolutely stunning today! No, that's something you'd tell a lady and he's already gotten up in arms about that. Need to think… how does one compliment another bloke without trying to make them out to be… too _feminine._ Hmm…"

This was a dilemma he contemplated while he continued to brush his teeth and rinsed out the brush. It took him all the way until he was nearly done combing his cowlicked hair for him to come up with anything worthwhile.

"You could tell him he looks… _dashing_ perhaps. Uhm… how about _fetching_ or… or…"

All sorts of adjectives were tossed about while he got dressed and straightened his pre-tied tie in the mirror again. _Enchanting, lovely, comely…_

"Oh, I've got it, _enticing_," he said, immediately flashing the charming grin he'd be working on just earlier, "Yes, you've got it, he's sure to say yes this time."

With that, Wheatley had to rush out the door to catch the bus to get to work. Being punctual when asking someone like Craig out was important!


End file.
